Breakdown (32 page)

“When I fell in love with Pauline, I told myself it wasn’t real, it was only because she was my therapist, and broken people fall in love with their therapists. I told myself that if I just put some distance between us—me and Pauline—I’d realize it was just circumstance, not love. I told myself that of course my brother was more important. But—” He stopped and swallowed. “It’s more than that. It’s real. I want to go back to Breton, to Pauline.”

“And just leave me here?”

“I want you to come with me. I think you can be happy there. I don’t want to leave you. After everything—” Chris choked, had to stop. He took a deep breath. “We shouldn’t be apart. Not anymore.”

Jon stuffed his hands into his armpits and would not look at Chris. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to give her up. I can’t.”

“You can. You have to. I’ll help you. Just like before.”

Jon’s head jerked up, and anger flashed in his eyes. “You can’t compare Susan to cocaine, damn you.”

“She’ll ruin you, just the same. Jon, you were about to
screw
her. Another man’s
wife
. You wouldn’t be able to respect yourself. And how could I?”

“I need some time.” Jon put a hand up to his face and turned away. “I need some time.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know. Shit.”

“One month.”

“No. Stay through Christmas.”

“No. I want to spend Christmas with Pauline.”

“’Til December, then. ‘Til the start of December.”

Hardly daring to breathe, Chris nodded. Three months.
Too long.
But at least he had a commitment from Jon. And what passed for an agreement. Surely this would be easier than the other time. He’d convince Jon to leave sooner than December. “And you’ll come with me? I want you to come with me.”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to see what—how I feel then.”

“Okay. Sure.”

“Please don’t tell anyone else,” Jon said.

“Of course not,” Chris said, keeping his voice low. “You know I’m trying to help you, right? I don’t want to see you hurt. I want to see you happy.”

“I want it, too.”

“You won’t lie to me, will you?”

Jon looked him in the eye and shook his head. “No.
No.
”

“Good.”

“I don’t want another girl, Chris. So don’t think that’s going to fix it.”

“You feel that way now, I know. Hell, Jon. Haven’t you talked to
anyone
about this? Fiona? Laura? Anyone?”

Jon shook his head.

“You’re as bad as me. You need a good therapist. And I happen to know one. But I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“You did all right the last time,” Jon said.

“Don’t do that to me again.”

Jon shook his head.

Chris moved toward the door. “It’s time for milking.”

“Are we okay?”

“Of course,” Chris said, catching his brother’s eye. “As long as you promise to try.”

“I promise.”

* * *

The second letter from Pauline came the next day. Chris handed Ian a coin after breakfast and asked him to stop by the post office on the way home from school, then made sure he was waiting by the gate when the boys got home. Ian handed him the letter with a roll of his eyes.

Chris managed to get through it without whooping out loud.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Pauline had written. “I look forward to kissing every part of you, too.” She went on from there. It was enough to drive a man to drink.

“What was in your letter today?” Fiona asked at supper.

Chris nearly choked on his peas. He mumbled something about hogs and football and wondered why the room was so bloody hot.

“Have you sent her a picture?” Jon asked. He brought one into Chris’s room later that evening. “This one. Suitable for framing.” He dropped it on the desk.

“That’s from years ago,” Chris said, covering up the letter he was writing in reply.

“How many photo studios have you run across lately, brother? Film and chemicals are still hellish expensive. When I can afford it again, you and she will be my first subjects.”

“Thanks. Now go away.”

“After your blood test Saturday, we’ll go to the pub and get pissed.”

“Bloody fantastic. Now
go away
.”

Play with Me
(excerpt)
(Wolcott/Price, 1991)

You keep the score, you keep the tally.
I’m eager for this match and tourney.
A doubles game is up my alley
My gear’s prepared, let’s start the journey.

Play with me.
Play with me.
Play a little game with me.

CHAPTER 27

“T
here, that’s it,” Pauline said to Michael, pointing past the windscreen into the waning light as they rounded a curve and saw the whole house and the stone wall in front of it, just the way Chris had described it.
Chris, I’m here!
Her stomach fluttered. A smile stretched her face.

Michael had arrived in Breton toward the end of October, on a cold morning with a hard frost glittering in the first rays of the sun. He pulled up in the road in front of the gate in a white lorry and tooted the horn. He apologized for not being able to give her any warning, said his run was going to take him right through Hurleigh, and that she could ride along if she could be ready to go in half an hour. She had rushed upstairs to pack a bag, her heart pounding.

“Nice place,” Michael said, pulling the lorry over closer to the edge of the road and putting on the brakes. He did not turn off the engine.

“You don’t want to come in, say hello to Chris?”

Michael shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Tell him for me, eh? I’ll be here day after tomorrow, okay? Morning, like, eight or so, right?”

“I’ll be ready,” Pauline said, opening the door.

He smiled at her. “Have a great time, Paulie.”

“Thank you so much, Michael.” She squeezed his hand.

“I’ll wait, just to be sure.”

Pauline beamed back at him as she climbed down from the cab with her rucksack slung over her shoulder and the tote in one hand. She shut the door and turned around.

A boy appeared, standing behind the gate. Ian.

“Hello,” Pauline said. “This is Hurleigh House, isn’t it? I’m looking for Chris Price.”

The boy nodded. Pauline took a step forward, and another boy ran up, younger, with darker hair. Preston. Close behind came a woman, holding her unbuttoned coat shut. Pauline guessed it might be Fiona, but wasn’t sure.

“Hello,” Pauline said again. “I’m looking for Chris Price.”

A smile broke over the woman’s face.

“He didn’t know you were coming, did he? You’re Pauline, aren’t you?” She pulled the gate open. “I’m Fiona.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Pauline said, smiling back, a little breathless. “Yes, I’m Pauline, and no, he doesn’t know.” She turned and waved at Michael in the cab of the lorry, gave him a thumbs-up. He revved the engine and drove away. The boys watched him go with mouths open.

Pauline stepped in through the gate. “A friend of mine,” she explained. “He gave me a ride. I hope I’m not imposing.”

Fiona waved her hand. “Don’t be silly, of course not! I’m delighted you’ve come! Chris will be thrilled. What a surprise! Come in, come in.”

The boys pushed the gate closed, and Pauline walked with Fiona across the yard toward the house.

“Chris is off at the next farm right now with Jon, but he’ll be back soon,” Fiona said as they walked. “We could send Ian over to get him, if you’d like, or just wait until he comes. Half hour at most.”

“Oh, let’s just wait. Surprise him, shall we?”

The door opened just before they got to it. Pauline knew who it had to be.

“Brian,” Fiona said, “this is Pauline!”

They took her into the warm kitchen, big and inviting and smelling wonderful. Brian helped her out of her coat. She met Vivian and Alan, was introduced to the boys, and Simon came in, too, having heard the lorry.

“How long can you stay?” Fiona asked.

“My friend is coming day after tomorrow to take me back,” Pauline said, putting her tote up on the table. “Here, I’ve brought some things. I understand it’s polite these days to bring food when one visits.” She unloaded the tote: a loaf of bread, some of Marie’s apple butter, dried apricots and apricot jam, red potatoes, two big jars of yellow wax beans, walnuts. Except for the bread, she had tried to pick things that were different from what they already had, according to what Chris had told her in his letters. They all exclaimed in delight, especially over the apricots.

Fiona took her off to the loo to “primp,” as she called it. Pauline grinned as she turned on the taps and the water came out. She hesitated before she flushed; she wasn’t sure if it would really work, even though Chris had told her it would. She almost laughed as the water whooshed into the toilet.

When she came back out, she told them about the ride. Brian and Simon asked her about the state of the roads, the number of other lorries or cars she had seen. Fiona and Vivian asked what the towns she passed through had been like. The boys sat listening in rapt silence.

Fiona stayed near the sink, where she had a view out the window. She glanced out every few moments, keeping watch for Chris and Jon.

“Here they come.” Fiona turned and smiled.

Pauline’s heart thumped in her chest. She stood up from the chair, eyes on the door. Muffled voices came from outside.

The door opened. Jon entered first. Chris was behind him, laughing at whatever his brother had just said, already unzipping his jacket, not paying attention to who waited in the kitchen. Pauline found she had to concentrate on controlling her breathing. They were both shrugging out of their coats, both with big smiles on their faces. Tears filled her eyes, in spite of the smile on her face. She wanted to stop time and stare at this relaxed, laughing Chris, his hair cut short, so different from the solemn, ragged man who had come to them last year, different even from the much-healed man who had walked away on the road a few months ago. She’d had some idea, from his letters, of the change, but to see him now, laughing, was almost overwhelming.

Jon hung his coat on a hook and turned toward them as Chris was hanging his. He spotted her, cocked his head, and said “Hello, who’s this—?” Then recognition swept across his expression. Chris stopped a step behind his brother, his face still alight with mirth, and caught sight of her. The mirth changed to surprise, and he stood, frozen, staring into her eyes.

Jon elbowed him. “I say, she’s
waiting
,” he said in a mock whisper.

Chris rushed forward then, and Pauline did, too, done with waiting, done with uncertainty. A few steps each brought them together.

“Pauline!” Chris grabbed her and held her tightly. She made some sort of little noise, but no words came. She couldn’t get enough of him into her arms, couldn’t hold him tight enough, couldn’t take in enough of his warmth or his smell. She wanted the embrace to last forever, wanted to feel this safe and complete and
certain
, forever. He pulled back enough to look into her eyes again.

She smiled. “Hello.”

“How did you get here?”

“Michael brought me in his lorry.”

“Hell, Chris, she’s come all this way,” Jon said. “Aren’t you going to kiss her, at least?”

Everyone was watching them. Chris kissed her with confidence. He grinned at her. Her heart thumped at the look. Then he glanced over at Fiona, who had a big smile on her face.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I didn’t!” She laughed, throwing her hands up.

“How long have you been here?” Chris asked Pauline.

“Not long at all.”

Fiona added, “Less than a half hour. We knew you’d be along any minute, so we thought we’d let you be surprised.”

“So you’ve all met,” Chris said, but he kept his eyes on Pauline’s face and continued to hold her close.

“Well, we’ve not been introduced,” Jon pointed out, and he stepped up to take the hand that Pauline held out to him. “Lovely to finally meet you. I’m Jon.”

Chris eventually turned her loose with another little kiss, but kept hold of her hand. “How is everyone? Is everyone okay?”

Pauline assured him that everyone was just fine.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” He ushered her into a chair and sat next to her, on the edge of his seat, staring at her face, her hand grasped in his.

“I didn’t know,” she said. “Michael came by this morning and said he was coming right through here, and he asked if I wanted to ride along.” She stopped and licked her lips. “He’ll be by the day after tomorrow to take me home.”

Chris’s smile faltered. “Two days,” he said softly, then blinked. “This morning?”

“It’s only about seventy miles.”

Chris shook his head, looked away from her, and Pauline knew he was remembering the long journey he’d had getting to Hurleigh.

“Well, you chaps need to get washed up,” Fiona said. “Supper in about half an hour. Chris, why don’t you take Pauline’s things up?”

They went hand in hand up the stairs, Chris carrying her bag. In his room he put it down, and they stood with eyes locked. Then Chris pulled her close and kissed her for a long time.

“That’s even nicer than I remembered,” Pauline said.

“It is. God, I can’t believe it,” he said, his hands in her hair, gazing at her face.

“You’ve changed. You found what you were looking for.”

He nodded. “I suppose I did. And I realized what I was missing.”

“You didn’t tell me you cut your hair.” She ran her fingers through it, and he looked embarrassed. “I like it. I like you happy.”

“Oh, I’m happy now,” he assured her, and kissed her again. Eventually he stood back. “I suppose we should go down.” He picked up her bag and set it on the bed. “Um...”

“What?”

“Will you share with me?” He nodded toward the bed.

“Oh, yes, please.”

“Good.” He ended up kissing her some more.

“I thought you said we should go down.”

Chris rarely let go of her hand the whole evening, even while they ate dinner. The other women wouldn’t let her help, so she sat with Chris and told everyone the latest Breton news.